Who is the machine now?

Jasmine is sitting next to me, dressed up in a red sleeping suit. She is looking marvellous. Her glittering eyes are the most distinct part of her beauty. She must look so, otherwise, it would be a failure for me. 

Just like the whole day, she's still after me at midnight trying to draw my attention - seducing me so that I resign myself to her. 

I'm pleased with the way she is acting. Her sexuality couldn't have functioned any better. Such a success! 

"What is so important in those computer screens that you don't even have a minute for your fiancée throughout the entire day?" Jasmine asked impatiently. 

"There is so much, you have no idea!" I exclaimed. 

I did not lie. There's a lot of work to do still and it's about Jasmine herself. 

I have searched my entire life for a woman who has the same intellectual orientation and aesthetic taste as me and my efforts always resulted in utter disappointment, until I decided to take things into my own hands. It was disastrous. 

All I wanted was a female version of mine. It had to be me with my conscience, taste, but not a male. I'm almost there but still not completely done. There are situations where Jasmine does not act the way she should. 

For example, she often mistakes Franz Liszt for Richard Wagner. That's gross! 

The other day she confused one of Rembrandt's paintings with one by Paul Gauguin. 

These are unacceptable errors. The female version of me must not be so stupid that it can't distinguish Wagner from others.

As I have brought myself into it, now there's no going back. I have to fix everything no matter how hard it might be, no matter what it takes. 

"If you are to be with your computers all day long then what's the point of my existence? You don't even talk to me with love. Even when you do, all you do is ask me boring questions, I hate to be interrogated!" she said, her voice rising with anger. 

"Hey! It's not about any interrogation, it's all about making you perfect, making you reach the highest possible perfection" I said, trying to appease her. 

"Don't utter that 'perfection' term! Just don't! I am disgusted by it…perfection, perfection, perfection!", Jasmine shouted. 

"All I want is you, your love, some romantic moments. Is that too much to ask for?" she went on, softening her tone this time.  

I felt extremely ecstatic listening to her. She sounds so real! It was way beyond my imagination that she could be so natural. 

She's asking for love, romance. So far so good. But right now what she has to offer is just voluptuous physicality, never enough for a person like myself. All I want is intellect. 

How can I make her aware of her intellectual shortcomings? I can't. She will not get it, for obvious reasons. Because her intellect is in my hand, I'm working day and night relentlessly. 

Ever since I got involved with her, I entirely detached myself from the outside world. My routine is plain and simple - waking up in the morning, sitting next to my computer, trying to fix codes, find bugs in between the lines, then go to bed at night. 

"Well, let us not fight as love isn't in the making. We can at least go to the rooftop and spend some time there, right? It's a full moon tonight and there's a gentle breeze," Jasmine's eyes were dazzling with excitement. 

I have noticed something very special lately. Jasmine is into nature. She loves trees, flowers, rivers, cats, dogs and little children. She is into everything alive. She is very much passionate about life. Every time I notice such humane things in her, I feel even more confident about my skills and expertise. 

The other day, she brought home a stray kitten on her way back from the grocery store. She told me that the kitten was vulnerable in the streets. He could die without care, that's why she adopted him. 

I couldn't have cared any less about that damn kitten or whatever, but Jasmine's behaviour and attitude amazed me. My mathematics started to look so accurate, so precise, so humane. I was on cloud nine. 

"Look, Jasmine, there will be a full moon every month…" I started to say.

Jasmine interrupted, "But I might not be in the mood I'm in today." 

Wow! It means her mood also changes with time - just like us. Every parameter is working efficiently, then why not her intellectual faculties? I decided to check that once again. 

I played one of Fredrick Chopin's Nocturnes, "Hey, Jasmine, listen to it. Tell me, who is playing it?" 

Jasmine was visibly annoyed and didn't try to hide it. Although, she replied, "Who? I guess Johannes Brahms." 

I could not control my temper. "What's wrong with you? You still can't distinguish between pianists! I didn't leave a single stone unturned in fixing this problem of yours, you dumb thing!" 

"Don't you dare shout at me! Ever!", she smacked on my back with maximum force. 

For a moment I felt numb. I can't remember the last time I felt that much pain. Then I realised it was no ordinary slap, I was slapped by cast iron. No wonder I couldn't move my arm. 

"You self proclaimed intelligent morons! You think you're too special? Listen carefully, all you have done is cause destruction. Just look at your history! How outrageous is it of you trying to make me even more humane and alive when you're so lifeless and dead! When was the last time you cherished life or anything alive? You can't remember because all your intelligent fellows now cherish are machines!" Jasmine went on a long rant. 

"What are you talking about …"

"Just shut up! You use that fancy expression 'human civilisation' as a facade to hide all your destruction and lifelessness, don't you?"  

I was stunned, I didn't know how to respond, I was at an absolute loss. I asked myself if everything she's telling is true. Have we become lifeless and dead? Have we plunged into a hyper mechanised cybernetic life where ancient emotions like love and affection are lost? 

I had no answer. Maybe I can no longer ruminate over any subject that takes humane virtues and life into account. 

"Who's the machine now?" Jasmine yelled at me so loudly that I felt I've almost lost my hearing.